


5+1 Good Things to Know.

by thelairoevie



Series: The Eevee Archives [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Arachnophobia, Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Binding/Binders, Canon-Typical Spiders (The Magnus Archives), Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), M/M, Movie Night, Neil Lagorio movies, Non-Binary Jonathan "Jon" Sims, Pining Martin Blackwood, Stimming, Trans Martin Blackwood, pronouns and coming out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28104351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelairoevie/pseuds/thelairoevie
Summary: A fluffy season-one series of short tidbits for my friend! Dispensed out over the week to keep them going through finals!5 things Jon learns about Martin after he moves into the Archives...And 1 thing Martin learns about Jon.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: The Eevee Archives [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896601
Comments: 33
Kudos: 225





	1. He’s thoughtful.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [camcatwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/camcatwriter/gifts).



Things were going to be different after Martin moved into the archives. Jon was going to actually go home on time, for one. Or, at least, he needed to be more subtle about falling asleep at his desk. He also knew it meant he was going to be seeing a lot more of Martin’s daily, bumbling life. He expected to see his dishes in the sink from daily meals in the breakroom, spent coats and maybe the occasional sock among the documents. 

However, that first night, when Martin had gone over to Tim’s to shower, and they had pitched in to get a good handful of toiletries and clothes to hold him over until his flat was safe, he had left no evidence in the archives whatsoever. An unobtrusive box on the cot with his name on it was the only evidence of the man living there. Even the cot’s thin blanket was neatly folded, a measure Jon had never bothered to take. Martin was wiping crumbs off the break room counter when Jon came in, bright and early at 8am- a whole hour later than he wanted to be in, without the coffee he had promised himself. He might not have been a big coffee drinker, preferring to go without the bitter wash of it, but the energy would have been nice.

“Oh! Uh, hullo, Jon.” Martin waved awkwardly at him, so Jon gave him a hum and a nod. 

“Do you always come in at this time?” Martin tried again, and Jon had to restrain himself from snapping. Martin was recovering from something horrific, he reminded himself. He was allowed to be a little annoying. It was a good sign, if anything. Meant he was his usual self. 

“Usually I arrive an hour or so before the others,” Jon admitted in a grumble. “Was trying to get here at seven.”

Martin’s eyes widened with realization, and then he turned to the counter again. “I see. W-well, would you like coffee instead of tea today? You look like you could use it.” He gave the offer with his hands spread placatingly, like he didn’t want Jon to take it as a threat. 

“I don’t--” Jon started, before he really had the chance to process what Martin was saying. He cut himself off with a sigh. “Sure, Martin. Coffee.” With another sharp nod, he shuffled out to his office, to get started on the mountain he had to work through. 

* * *

The next morning he actually managed to make it in on time, despite having to wake at an even more dreadful hour than the last. Jon stumbled into his office quietly, sure that Martin was still sleeping away in the little room Jon had holed him up in. 

However, when he looked to his desk, he found the statements he had set aside to work on for this week sorted into piles with the pertinent information, a steaming cup of coffee next to it. Martin had added cream and sugar, unfortunately, but there was no way for him to know that Jon took it black. He set down his coat and began to work, taking a sip. It tasted of cinnamon.

* * *

That kind of thing just _kept happening_. Martin didn’t always bring him coffee, but there was always something. He’d show up to find all the bad pens at his desk replaced and his stack of sticky notes full. He’d forget his lunch and Martin would “accidentally” order too much takeout. Sasha or Tim would mention something or other they didn’t get in for the weekend, and Jon would find it done come Monday. 

His own files were done without skill, but with pointed effort, Jon noticed. When Jon pointed out a specific mistake in the midst of his general disdain, Martin never repeated it. _Due diligence,_ his memory reminded him. For some reason, Martin always put in the extra effort. Even when it brought him into danger. 

The knowledge burned at Jon until it spilled out of his mouth ahead of his mind. “When did you get better about all this?” He gestured at the finished reports that Tim had been behind on the Friday before.

Martin gave him a confused look, but Jon’s mouth had no intentions of stopping. “The little fixes, I mean. The extra care in everything.” He managed to keep himself from adding that that wasn’t how Martin was _supposed_ to be. He was thoughtless, clumsy. Caused issues and delays, like letting dogs run around. A friendly face, certainly. Maybe an attractive one, all dark eyes and freckles. But not particularly astute.

“Well, I-I’ve been thinking. A lot, actually. Not much else to do around here. And since I’m always here, well. It’s, um, more obvious when you guys need things? And I want to help.” Martin’s voice got quiet as he finished saying it. He sounded so earnest, Jon felt a pang of… something.

_Turns out Martin is remarkably thoughtful.  
_


	2. He’ll defend you from spiders.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's afraid of spiders. It's nice to have someone around for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing a 5+1 thing overnight! I hope you like them.

Jon’s office was usually somewhere he considered himself safe. Since moving out of the bullpen of Research, he’d been afforded the luxury of peace--quiet except for the whirring of the tape and his own motions. That must be why his guard was so down when he saw the spider. 

Without thinking, he had reached his hand into a box of statements, moved to grab a file and there it was. Menacing, gangly legs twitching. A ball of malice and mandibles.

Spider.

He lept back with a none-too-dignified sound. Behind him, he scrambled his hands over his desk, looking for an object--a paperweight or a stapler or  _ something _ \-- to crush the damn thing with. He tried to convince himself that his breathing was normal. 

There was a sound at the door, and Jon distinctly did  _ not  _ jump a foot in the air. 

“You alright? There was a-- you okay?” Martin’s voice called, softening when he met Jon’s eyes. 

“Yes. I- it’s just a spider. In the box.” Jon gestured to it, and then resumed his search for a formidable weapon to use against the enemy arachnid. 

“Oh.” Martin replied. He walked over to the thing, leaned over, and gently stuck his whole hand inside. In a calm, childing voice he said. “You need to get on my hand, now. I’ll take you outside.” After a moment, he cupped his left hand over his right, and stood up straight. 

“I’ll bring you some tea after I let this guy out, allright?” Martin called to Jon over his shoulder. Jon couldn’t do much more than fidget and gawk. 

“Y-yes. Thank you.” 

* * *

Because this was the archives, it was bound to happen again. Jon knew that spiders like warm, dry places that aren’t often disturbed- and Gertrude’s files were full of spaces like that. A nagging feeling told Jon that even then there probably shouldn’t be so many spiders in the Archives, not with the distinct lack of flies, but he wasn’t about to say that aloud.    
  


There was a sort of relief that Jon didn’t know you could get from another person. It formed in his chest when Martin stepped in to pick up the damned creature in his gentle hands. At first, Jon was concerned that the spiders would just come back in, but after the Vittery statement he took care to see if a spider was strikingly familiar, and they never were. Martin never teased him when he got called in to grab one, and always came back with some small comfort. 

Despite their ongoing argument on whether spiders could be evil, Martin never once seemed to judge him, or ever fuss too much over him when he made odd noises or knocked over objects in his schock. He was understanding. Jon thought back to what it must have been like the weeks before Martin had moved into the Archives, dreading a knock at the door, the way his voice went up another octave when he noticed there was a worm on the floor. Suddenly, it all made sense. 

If Jon was suddenly more aggressive in his worm removals when Martin was in the room, well. No one would say anything.

_ Turns out Martin is so very, very brave. _


	3. He wears a binder.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short look into Jon's thinking during episode MAG023.

“...be for naught because of a single farmer who couldn’t mind his business. I lit my lantern, and--” Jon read, his careful tone interrupted as a noise sounded from the other end of the room. He looked up, and at once heat flooded his face. 

“Martin! Good lord man, if you’re going to be staying in the Archives, at least have the decency to put some trousers on!” He turned his face into the paper of the statement, not wanting to stare. Martin was very obviously in the middle of getting dressed. Jon tried to push the new image of his assistant from his mind. He had freckles that descended down his neck and stopped at his chest. His stomach had a patch of soft-looking hair under his belly button. He had an appendectomy scar near his hip, and several small scars on his knees, with one larger one drawing up his thigh. His hair was tousled from sleep and stuck out to the left. Even at a glance, Martin was handsome. Martin was also speaking. 

“--n’t think you were in until later; it’s not even seven yet. Martin squeaked out, breaking past the heated spiral of Jon’s thoughts

Jon looked back up at him, and noticed, to his surprise, that it wasn’t that Martin’s freckles stopped after his collarbones- he was wearing a skin-tone binder. 

Instantly, he was back in University, with that familiar pressure on his own chest. 

* * *

_“There you are.” Georgie said, watching him walk out with it on for the first time. She bought it for him, as a present, the day after he had brought it up. Coming out to Georgie had been a mess of feelings he didn’t have words for, and a wash of relief when she kept up with an acceptance that seemed effortless. “Is that comfortable?”_

_It had been nice, Jon remembered. It felt right in a way that few things did back then. He had fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, adjusting to the sensation._

_“So, it’s ‘Jon’, right?” Georgie had double-checked, just in case. “Anything else I should change about what I call you?”_

_The words felt like the release of pressure in a dam that Jon hadn’t realized was on the brink of breaking. It wasn’t easy, it rushed and tore, but in a way that felt certain. “Um, I’d like to go by ‘he’, sometimes. And ‘they’.” Jon’s eyes wouldn’t meet hers, but Georgie moved by their side, an arm wrapped around their shoulders, tilting their face up to the mirror._

_“Well, this is Jon, and I think they look handsome today,” she established, gesturing at their reflection, and Jon didn’t need to fight back a smile._

* * *

That had been years ago: before the wait time for top surgery had come through, before coming in to work in the unwelcoming pressure of academia had convinced him to leave most the androgyny at home, to be brought out with a glass of wine and the occasional skirt.

Maybe, just maybe, with Martin he wouldn’t have to. Maybe he’d understand.

“I’ve been coming in early in the hopes of leaving this place before dark,” he admitted.

_It turns out Martin has something in common with me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm genderfluid, but I don't usually bind or go by a Non-Binary specific label, so if this came off as weird, I am so very sorry.  
> For my friend, who did ask for NB Bi/Ace Jon.


	4. He likes vintage things.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon speculates on what Martin's home is like.

Once they had the use of fire extinguishers, it was deemed safe enough to fetch Martin’s personal belongings. 

Jon hadn’t elected to go in with Tim and Martin to get his things-- but now the curiosity at what Martin’s flat must have looked like was making him regret that. He fidgeted in his office, trying to avoid what he pictured Martin’s proper bed looked like (likely something childish or soft) or what kinds of tea Martin stocked on his own shelves. It wasn’t important or relevant, he reminded himself. He may have been a little extra harsh about Martin’s work on tape.

When the others returned, it was well past the expected end of the workday, but the statement in Jon’s hands had not seen significant progress. He shifted in his seat, watching through the corner of his eye as the men carried in a suitcase and a few boxes. Just enough to be comfortable, and for Martin to have plenty of clothes. Jon himself had offered to wash Martin’s clothes on weekends, just so he wouldn’t have to risk a trip to a laundromat. Martin had stiffened and mumbled something about smelling like Jon, but there certainly wasn’t a more logical option. Jon pointedly stopped himself from asking if he smelled bad. That would be much too far past professional.

* * *

When the rest had gone, the statement wasn’t getting any closer to completion, so he found an excuse to pass by Martin, to see if he needed any help. In the room with the cot, he was arranging a box as a bedside table, and a series of blankets and extra pillows on his bed. 

Martin’s other effects were almost all old, and looked well-cherished. His quilts looked vintage, or at least made in a vintage style. He brought with him a small, retro radio that didn’t even work in the Archives, an old Gameboy, and a collection of cassettes, each marked for his individual mixtapes. He had an old Polaroid camera, an alarm clock from the 60s, and an old-fashioned leather notebook. Jon was willing to bet he had old, thrifted teacups in his cupboard, and a rotary telephone on a shelf. 

A VHS tape rattled out of one of the boxes. Jon watched as Martin cursed softly, and then bent at the waist to pick it up. 

“You like older movies?” He blurted, causing Martin to startle. 

“Christ-- Jon,” Martin responded, lowering his guard when he realized who was speaking. “You scared me.” 

There was a moment of silence while Martin seemed to forget he was asked a question. Then, his eyes began to light up and he replied, “Oh, the VHS. Yes, um. When I was a kid, we- we had a VCR, you know? One of our little luxuries. I kept it, so now I get the tapes from thrift shops and the like. I guess the nostalgia kind of stuck with me.” He lifted the movie in demonstration.

Jon was pleasantly surprised at the title. “ _ The Wire Runner.  _ I didn’t realize that was in circulation.”

“Oh! Yeah, I had to dig around a bit. I liked the trailer for it, but I still only have the VCR and a little cable. Still worth the watch. One of my favorites.”

Jon felt a bit like someone who was just told that peanut butter sandwiches were fine cuisine. It bridged between offended and excited, an excuse to introduce someone to a proper dish. “It’s alright, I suppose. How much do you know about Neil Lagorio?” It broke into a rambling lecture about stop-motion and robotics.

He felt the excitement grow, this was one of his  _ specialties, _ old-fashioned movie effects, and he immediately looked to Martin for that familiar signal to be quiet. To shut it down, because he had said too much. 

All he saw was genuine, earnest interest. 

_ It turns out Martin has some taste for the classics. _


	5. He’s warm.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a sleepy movie night- and learns more about Martin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, almost all of us came up with a movie night for this gift! I tried to keep this one short.

he lights of the archives were down low-- it was well past 10pm at this point. A film flickered on the white moth-eaten projector screen they’d pulled down. A few hours ago, he would have been on his feet, gesturing and interrupting wildly, but a few pointed looks from Tim had convinced him to settle down, and now, in his shelter of Martin’s hand-stitched quilts, it was growing rather difficult to keep his eyes open. How long had he been awake today? Since 5am, certainly. 

Next to him, Martin showed considerably more energy, he leaned away from Jon and towards the screen, store-bought popcorn in hand. When the main character made a witty remark, Jon felt the chair next to him shake with Martin’s laugh.  _ Agents of Orion  _ was a pulp-y scifi film from an era earlier that most of Jon’s choice films, but it was fun in that it was corny, and the effects were amazing for their time.

* * *

About halfway through, Tim and Sasha stood to take their leave. 

“Sorry, Boss, Martin, but we gotta go. I’ve got a spin class at 7 tomorrow, and I’m Sasha’s ride home. Movie night was fun, though. Fancy trying again next week?” 

Jon replied to this with a sleepy grumble. He probably didn’t have  _ time  _ to do this again, as nice as it was, but he certainly didn’t have the energy to start an argument with Tim. Best to just leave it be for the time being. 

At some point through the night Martin made his way out of the office chair and onto the floor with Jon and the pillows. There was a space between them, a professional and friendly gap of respecting each other's space. 

“Shouldn’t you be going home too, Jon?” Martin asked, his voice light enough to be difficult to hear. Jon gave a yawn in response and Martin immediately yawed back. “Oh, don’t do that, or we’ll both fall asleep here.”

Jon should be going home. He really ought to go get a cab, pay his way back to his too-cold apartment and try to find sleep on his bed that was becoming less familiar than the Archives by the day. Then, he could come back into work the next morning and make progress until Elias ushered him out with a monologue about working weekends, and too much overtime. 

That was what should happen here. Reluctantly, he moved to stand, shifting his weight onto his arms so that his straining legs could straighten under him. His coat was on his desk, but the weight of the blanket against him was nice, and it was a struggle with his subconscious to go over to it, even more reluctant to let the quilt fall to the floor. He swayed on his feet, instead. 

A steady hand braced itself against the outside of his thigh. Martin had reached out to help him stay up. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I--” Jon interrupted himself with another yawn. Martin followed it with another echo. “Jus’ tired, is all.” 

“You could sleep here, if you like. Take the cot,” Martin offered.

“Oh, I couldn’t-- you sleep there.” 

“I’m just fine on the floor here. Got all these pillows.” Martin wiggled into the pile of pillows and curled up on the floor.

“You don’t even have a blanket.”

“Well, no. You’ve got it.” And so Jon did. He clutched the fabric around his shoulders. Suddenly, being back on the floor seemed very nice. 

“Right.” Slowly, he knelt back down. Some force, gravity perhaps, moved him into the warm comfort of the cozy setup. Something warmer and more solid was pressed against him, probably Martin, but Jon’s mind was already going fuzzy with sleep. He couldn’t remember why that might be a problem, even if some small part of him said it was.

“What are you- oh.” Martin let out a tense puff of air beside him.  _ Shut up already and let me sleep,  _ Jon thought to himself. “Er, Jon, are you sure you don’t want to… right.” Martin was saying, but the words barely registered in Jon’s mind. His eyes closed of their own weighty volition, and he let them. God, he needed some decent rest.

“Goodnight, Jon.” Came Martin’s voice from beside him. 

_ It turns out Martin makes him feel safe. _


	6. +1 He's adorable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin's perspective on chapter 4: set before the movie night happens. 
> 
> Martin learns something about Jon, and his little habits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan Stims! 
> 
> He fidgets and waves and paces and rocks and jumps and it's all wonderful.

It was almost sad how quickly the Archives came to feel like home to Martin. The little room he slept in wasn’t supposed to be permanent, just somewhere to be until things got better, but for as long as he could remember, that had been all home was. Somewhere to sleep until his mom got better, until he could make them more money. 

Bringing in his stuff from his old flat really solidified that this was his home now. This was what he had, outside of his mom. The Archives. Tim and Sasha. Jon. God,  _ Jon. _

It was still jarring to see the boss that doubted his every move, who he was so scared of disappointing come up to him earlier in the day and offer to  _ launder his clothes  _ so he’d have something professional to wear to work. Martin’s brain may have short circuited at the thought out having his own shirt collar smell like Jon’s laundry soap, but it would be stupid to turn him down. 

It wasn’t like Jon being nice to him outside of work meant Jon was being nicer about his work, though. If anything, the edits in his work on statements and the comments on the tapes he transcribed were worse, as if Jon wanted to make up for his kind gestures. It was confusing, and altogether unfair to Martin’s poor heart.

* * *

Martin was finishing up setting up his few belongings: a few comforts to help the long nights pass faster, and his alarm. It was much better than the tinny ring of his cheap replacement phone, which was the kind that you had to flip open.

From behind him came the low rumble of Jon’s voice, sending a shiver down his spine before making him yelp in surprise. When did he come in? Martin hoped he didn’t mutter anything embarrassing about him aloud. 

“You like older movies?” He had asked, and to Martin’s surprise, he sounded genuinely interested. 

The truth was that yeah, Martin liked older movies. Mostly they were what he could afford to keep around, but he didn’t deny the charm of the warm fuzz of old cameras, the endearing melodrama. What Martin liked even more than the movies, though, was seeing Jon express this much interest in something he had to say. 

It was not lost to him that a fire seemed to light within Jon when he brought up _The Wire Runner._ It was one of the films Martin was most fond of, and the idea of having that in common with Jon, well. It was a nice thought. 

“It’s alright, I suppose.” That was high praise, at least from Jon.“How much do you know about Neil Lagorio?”

Martin certainly knew more about Neil Lagorio, and film puppetry and effects as well, once Jon got into talking. Still, it wasn’t the animation of monsters that really caught Martin’s attention. _It was the animation of Jon._

Up until this point, Martin had paid close attention to Jon when he spoke. When recording statements, he held completely still, almost like his voice moved separate from his body. When he spoke to them, he fidgeted stiffly, tugging at the corners of his sleeves and pacing a few steps before cementing himself in front of you, darting his eyes around before fixing them intently on yours. It was intense, it was stuffy, it was intentional. 

Here, Jon shifted from foot to foot, tapping his hands in light, rapid motion on his thighs, a little bounce that would be easy enough to ignore if Martin didn’t already know how much abandon it implied for Jon. When Martin only encouraged his speech, he began to pace, moving his hands around the air the gesticulate as he spoke. This was a Jonathan Sims that wasn’t restraining himself. Fascinated, bustling and alive. Suddenly, it made more sense how Jon was friends with Tim. The fidgety pep in his behavior reminded Martin of the other man. 

Just when he was smiling to himself with a satisfied thought of  _ I like this Jon, this is nice.  _ Jon began to bounce. It was small at first, more of a rock onto the balls of his feet to punctuate the way he described the work with scale they had done to the puppets in  _ Toy Shop.  _ The more he bounced, the more the light in his eyes seemed to brighten, and he repeated the motion with more vigor, allowing it to slightly alter his cadence. 

“And before his time, there was no overlap in the use of both plastics and moulded rubber, which is why the expressions in  _ Forty Winks  _ were so groundbreaking…” Jon continued, and Martin made his best effort to catalogue every movement, each little huff of breath with every burst of stimulation. Jon didn’t seem to realize he was doing it.

Martin wanted to call the bouncing _cute,_ but that implied a sort of childishness that was unsuitably condescending. The hair that curled up and swished at Jon’s temples was still as distinguished as he was. It was more along the lines of _lovely._ It felt like getting to see the way that Jon was when he was really, properly enjoying himself. A burst of excitement, shared with him.

Martin would give a lot to see that again. 

“So… movie night? I know there’s a projector around here somewhere. And I, er, It’s not like I have plans come Friday.”

Jon’s motions faded into self-conscious swaying, but the glow of the high hung on him like a halo. 

“Huh? Oh, uh. Sure. Sounds nice.” 

_ It turns out Jon is beautiful.  _


End file.
